


Two Ways To Skin Tonight (See Who’s Road Gets There Faster)

by prouvairablehulk



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9600281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/pseuds/prouvairablehulk
Summary: Barry Allen is a superhero. Barry Allen has broken the sound barrier on foot. Barry Allen has won battles against villains from across time and space. So why is it so hard to tell one asshole that he doesn’t want to date him anymore?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing I never crossposted from Tumblr
> 
> This is for @adorkablebarry who is an angel and deserves many nice presents.  
> ‘my current partner is a huge asshole and i need a reason to break up with them so will you pretend to be my possessive and violent ex’ au + ColdFlashWave because we both ship it and this prompt is asking for Mick Rory to be involved.

Barry Allen is a superhero. Barry Allen has broken the sound barrier on foot. Barry Allen has won battles against villains from across time and space. So why is it so hard to tell one asshole that he doesn’t want to date him anymore? 

It had taken three dates over the span of two weeks, after seeing him at Jitters, for Barry to realize that dating Tony Woodward was a terrible idea. And not only that, but Tony had somehow matured into an even bigger asshole than he’d been when he’d bullied Barry in middle school. The issue was, for Barry at least, that giving this as the reason for breaking up with Tony would result in even more of the violent asshole-ish behavior Barry is trying to avoid. What Barry needs is a decent reason, one that will cow Tony into never coming near him again. Maybe Barry could invent an ex? Someone with some kind of power that would threaten Tony enough -

Okay, Barry’s brain is a traitorous traitor, because suddenly there was a very clear image behind his eyelids of someone very non-fictional who fit that description exactly. Two someones, to be honest. And it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it, about them. Yes, they were criminals, yes they’d tried to kill him that one time, but it’s not like he hasn’t imagined it (not to mention a few lapses in judgement when in the shower with time to spare) - but Barry couldn’t possibly - 

He thinks of Tony, who had spent their last dinner date bemoaning political correctness as the end of comedy. 

Okay, Barry could. It would be dangerous, and possibly the most demeaning thing Barry had ever done, and it was entirely possible he would be laughed out of the bar, but he could do it if it meant the end of his relationship with Tony. 

***

“You want what?” 

The kid sighs, and folds in on himself at his barstool. 

“I thought so. You don’t have to do anything -”

“That’s not what I said, Barry.” snaps Len, singsonging the kid’s name a little more than is probably strictly necessary. “I just asked for clarification.”

“I want one of you to pretend to be my ex for the purpose of scaring off my new asshole boyfriend.” 

Mick scoffs a little, and prepares to ask the obvious question, which would be ‘why would we possibly do that?’. Yes, the kid’s cute, in a twinkish, I-could-fold-you-in-half kind of way, and he has an ass that won’t quit, which Mick is quite appreciative of, but he doesn’t have anything Mick or Len want.

“And if we do? What will we get in return, Flash?” Len purrs, voice dropping about three octaves to the pitch he only hits when there’s potentially sex on the horizon. And honestly, this changes things. The fucking Flash came to two of his nemeses to ask for help in his love life? Len’s got a smug little smirk on his face as he waits for the Flash’s response. 

“There must be something you want that I can get you.” the kid tosses back, with a wry twist of his lips that suggests he’s said this to Len before. Len’s widening smirk only confirms this. 

“Based on this happy little interaction,” Mick interjects, “I’d say there’s a very easy answer to that question.” 

The kid goes scarlet, and alright Lenny, Mick can see the attraction. He’s so delightfully innocent, so morally upright. You can’t help but think about sullying him a little, dirtying him up in the most enjoyable of ways. 

“Would that guarantee your help?” 

Len comes damn close to dropping his drink, and Mick smiles slow, like spreading oil. 

“Is that something you’d enjoy?” asks Len, eyebrow almost at his hairline. “Because you should take it off the table right now unless you really want it, all games of bargaining aside.”

Barry - the fucking Flash Mick isn’t over that yet - looks up at them from under his absurdly long eyelashes and nods sheepishly. Mick quashes the sudden urge to put the kid on his knees and see if he’d use that same expression, and instead pushes himself to his feet, fitting himself against Barry’s back and using the excuse of pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans to get both hands on Barry’s ass. He leaves one down there while he tosses the phone to Len, who plugs in both their numbers with a delighted smirk. Barry’s blush stays high on his cheeks, but if anything he pushes further into Mick’s hands rather than trying to get away. Isn’t that just interesting.

“Call us, and tell us where to go.” says Len, swatting Mick’s hand out of the way to return Barry’s phone to his pocket. “We’ll be there, regardless of whether or not you want to explore the cause behind that blush. No one should be stuck in a relationship they don’t want to be in.” 

The kid all-bar flees, although he pauses at the door to cast a longing look back at the two of them. 

***

Barry calls Mick’s number under the table from his speed dial (and wasn’t that a weird feeling) ten minutes into his next date with Tony. As if the universe was aligning, Tony had suggested their next date be at a bar in the Rogues’ territory, and the call is only a signal to tell Mick and Len now would be a good time to act.  
The other inhabitants of the bar part like the Red Sea in front of Mick, and Barry swallows hard. Look, he’d been (mostly) kidding about sleeping with the two of them, regardless of how good it had felt to be the center of attention like that, or how nice it had been to feel safe and cradled even with Mick groping his ass (and no, Barry totally hadn’t hyperventilated about how much he liked Mick Rory groping his ass, not at all), but how is he supposed to resist this? Mick looks like his namesake, like an avenging angel sweeping down with the wrath of God behind him. Barry thought the hard part of this arrangement was going to be acting like he wanted to leave with Len and Mick, not pretending that he didn’t want to. 

“Hello, Scarlet.” Mick fucking growls, and Barry attempts to re-solidify his spine, from where it’s decided to turn to warm mushy goo at the gravel in Mick’s tone. 

“What are you doing here, Mick?” Barry asks, and wow, he doesn’t even need to fake the soft little tone that suggests anything that happened between them did not end on Barry’s terms. Internally he winces. He sounds horribly in love. 

“I thought i was having a pleasant night out, and then I saw - this.” 

Mick waves his hand at the table Barry and Tony are sitting at. Tony is going a particular shade of red, and Barry is so looking forward to this next part. 

“You picked this asshole to replace me? To replace us?” Mick demands, and he’s a good actor, because he looks genuinely offended about it. Barry catches sight of Len, propping the bar behind Mick and looking dreadfully smug. 

“Replace?” splutters Tony. “What the hell is he talking about, Barry?” 

Barry sets his sights firmly on the table. 

“I couldn’t say anything, Tony. I couldn’t tell anyone about my relationship with him - I could have lost my job.”

“Lost your - why?”

“What my boy Scarlet is trying to say -” interrupts Mick, and since when did that kind of possessiveness send shivers down Barry’s spine? “-is that you can’t tell the police you belong to a criminal or two.” 

Oh Christ, Barry’s about three seconds from melting straight through the floor - ‘belong to’, honestly - and as a result it takes a few seconds for the ‘or two’ to register.  
“I don’t belong to -” Barry attempts to argue. Mick cuts him off with a look that’s weirdly warm. 

“-you left me.” Barry continues, stubbornly sticking to their script 

“Oh, Barry.” comes that terribly silky drawl, and oh no, that’s Len, right on cue. “It’s cute you thought we would just leave you like that. You’re ours, darling boy.” 

Tony looks like he’s watching a tennis match he doesn’t understand. Len reluctantly tears his gaze away from Barry, and regards Tony like he’s the scum of the earth. 

“Leave.” snaps Len, with a soft flick of his eerily elegant fingers. Tony takes a deep breath and shoves his chair back, only to be confronted with Mick’s broad chest and disquieting smile. 

“Back out of this.” snarls Tony. “He says its over, its over.” 

Len laughs, something low and smoky, right out of a Raymond Chandler novel. 

“You really don’t understand how this works, do you?” he says, deceptively friendly. “Barry belongs to us. Leave now, and maybe you won’t leave in a box.”

Fuck. When did hearing Len threaten people over ownership of Barry become that scorchingly hot? Barry finds himself repeating a desperate mental mantra - they’re acting, they’re acting, they’re acting. 

“You can’t possibly get away with that!” 

“On the contrary, Mister Woodward, I’m Cold. I can do whatever I want. Do you wish to test that?” 

Mick grins, and gets two fistfuls of Tony’s shirt to reel him in. 

“You stay away from our boy, now, and maybe I won’t burn you to a crisp.” he growls, and then drops Tony as though he’s not even a concern. Len pulls Barry’s chair out, offers him his arm. 

“Come along, Scarlet.” Len announces. He turns with enough of a flourish to emphasize the thigh holster that the Cold Gun rests in. Tony goes white. 

“Seems we need to remind you who you really belong to.” rumbles Mick, turning so the hip with the Heat Gun is facing Tony more clearly. 

There’s a beat where they cross the bar floor in total silence and then Len has them into the back room and Mick has flicked the deadbolt down. Barry’s just glad he had Len’s arm to lean on, because he’s so turned on his knees won’t take his weight. Suddenly, he can feel the warm press of Mick’s body behind him, providing support and warmth. 

“You liked that, us calling you ours, us claiming you.”

Len says it as a statement, and Barry can’t make eye contact with him. It’s one thing to suddenly discover that he has a possessiveness kink the size of the mainland United States, bit another to actually talk about it. 

“It’s alright, Scarlet.” says Mick, and Barry can feel the vibration of Mick’s voice in his chest. “You’re allowed to like it, we don’t mind.”

“We’d be very happy if you liked it, darling boy.” says Len, eyes searching Barry’s face. “We’d be very happy if you did want to be ours, in a more real and permanent sense.”

Barry’s knees buckle again, but this time he’s held up by Mick’s chest and Mick’s hands, back in their favorite spot on Barry’s ass. 

“Use your words, Barry.” prompts Mick, punctuating his words with a squeeze of his hands. “Do you want to be ours? For now and forever?” 

Barry whines high in his throat, and then collects himself. 

“Yes.” he breathes. 

Len smiles, warm and genuine, and steps forward to claim Barry’s lips, as Mick’s descend on Barry’s neck.

***

Barry stops at Jitters the next morning to grab another coffee before his shift starts. He never made it home, and as a result he’s wearing one of Len’s shirts under a worn-in and soft jacket of Mick’s. Neither, however, does a particularly good job of hiding the frankly vast number of hickeys on his neck.  
(Len had pinned him against the counter while Mick scrambled eggs that morning, determined to leave some that would last long enough to be seen during the inevitable confrontation. At the time, Mick had laughed, but he hadn’t been laughing when he reeled Barry in after giving him the jacket, intent on leaving a few more of his own)

Tony is indeed there, as Len predicted, leaning against the pickup counter. He regards Barry with something approaching fear and leaves out the back door as soon as his drink is called. Barry whips out his phone and texts this to Mick and Len as soon as the door closes, finishing the message just in time to order his coffee. By the time he’s finished paying, his phone has chimed twice with responses. 

Mick: Good. Would hate to leave him with the wrong impression. 

Len: He knows who you belong to, Scarlet. 

For a moment, Barry hovers in the memories of the night before, of the near-frantic praise that had been heaped on him, of the bites and the too-tight grips, and the filthy promises that were fulfilled until Barry was blissed out and shaking. It had been better than any of Barry’s shower daydreams, better than he’d ever let himself hope it could be with anyone. He’d felt safe, and valued, and prized. His thumbs worked quickly to type another message before the barista called his drink. 

Barry: Wouldn’t want it any other way. 

He walked on sunshine all the way to the Precinct, absentmindedly thumbing at the fading bruises on his neck. His phone chimes once more before he arrives, and the message keeps him warm for the rest of the day, lets him buzz through the hours before he can hear them say it again. 

Len: Our darling boy.


End file.
